Hitched In Vegas
by xxmadworldredemptionxx
Summary: AU/AH: Complete strangers, Clary and Jace, encounter each other in Vegas and make a completely sober decision to marry each other. The problem? They're both engaged to be married in a couple of months...to someone else. Or so they thought. CLACE ONE-SHOT [T]


_**Author's Note:** Hello my lovelies. Here's another old one-shot previously posted under my old account xxmadworldreveriexx. This was written based on one reader's request (again, I can't remember who, so sorry!) Anyway, hope you guys will enjoy this one. _

_**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the original TMI series and characters. Any familiar quotes that you recognise from the TMI books should, of course, be attributed to the ingenuity of Cassie. However, the plot lines and other character developments etc. in this story belongs to me,**_ _ **xxmadworldredemptionxx**_ _ **. Please do not copy, reproduce, translate, or repost these stories elsewhere without my permission.**_

* * *

 **HITCHED IN VEGAS**

* * *

 **Present day:**

I stared at him as he slept. Now, I know what you're thinking: _What a total creep. Doesn't she have any better to do than to ogle at a gorgeous sleeping man?_

Honestly, I guess I don't. Especially when said man was my _husband_. The question here, though, was for how long? How long would Jace continue to be my husband? What would happen when we finally broke the news to our parents of our _secret_ marriage? And how could I possibly move on from him now that I knew what it was like to have someone like him: an attentive, loving husband who cared about me above all else? Who put me first despite the fact that we hadn't even been together for all that long?

Okay, so maybe our marriage was unorthodox, but the point was, it worked.

Our relationship had progressed at lightning speed, with both of us never expecting how quickly or how strongly our feelings for each other would grow. There was definite attraction when we first met, but it wasn't love at first sight or anything of the sort, no. We married, mostly, out of sheer defiance.

Living together under the same roof and incorporating each other into our routines, it really didn't take long for either of us to open up to one another, which was surprising considering we both had some pretty deep trust issues. But with Jace, it was easy. We could talk about anything and everything under the sun: our families, our friends, our past relationships, our fears, our personal beliefs, and even our hopes and dreams for the future. We even bonded over the simpler things like music, movies and even art. I was glad. I'd never thought that I could ever find someone who could listen and connect with me on such an emotional level.

Physically, we never lacked in the intimacy department—though that didn't happen overnight either. Having been raised in a traditional family, I did my absolute best to live by the Morgenstern moral codes, which of course, included observing chastity. Admittedly, of all the rules that my parents enforced upon Jonathan and I, the chastity rule was the one I had minded the least…as prudish as it might sound. But hey, there was more to life than just the short-term physical pleasures—but I'm digressing. The point was, Jace had surprised me with his incredible amount of patience; he made sure that he had earned my trust first and foremost before we pursued anything beyond. He was, in a word, a breath of fresh air amid a world of turbulence.

Because of the circumstances and secrecy surrounding our marriage, we didn't go on a honeymoon. Straight after our wedding, I'd followed Jace home to London, where I'd discovered that he was more than just a simple Englishman, but an extremely wealthy and influential businessman. Lord knew which rock I was living under, but I never suspected that my new husband was on the board of directors alongside his father, Stephen Herondale, who owned a hugely successful company, Herondale Enterprises, and that his annual net worth amounted to over 17 million pounds.

It was a shocker, but not entirely surprising either. My father was an equally powerful man too, owning several companies in the United States and even one in his home country of Switzerland. Morgenstern Conglomerate Inc. My brother would be his successor one day while boring old me would inherit a sizeable portion of the family legacy— _if_ I did everything like my parents wanted.

But let me just get this off my chest: I never cared about the money. The trust fund which I was given access to on my 16th birthday remained untouched till this very day. I didn't want to be one of those rich girls who spent every dime of their parents' money, simply because she could. Even when I was studying in a different state, I only ever relied on my parents' money for the apartment which they insisted on buying for me despite my fervent protests (I would have been content to live in the dorms like most of the other students). I then took up a part-time job waitressing, much to the horror of my parents _and_ great ancestors. What they didn't understand about my "difficult rebellious phase" was my step towards self-sufficiency, of growing up.

Oh boy, if only they knew that my job as a waitress was the _least_ of their worries… And if they overreacted to _that_ , I could only imagine how much more disastrous it would be when they learn about the stunt I pulled off with their secret son-in-law, I thought as I looked over at Jace again. So handsome. So peaceful… I would give anything to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.

Because the truth of the matter was, I was scared. I loved Jace, and I didn't want to lose him. But come tomorrow, there was every bit of a possibility that I could. I was finally going to introduce my parents to Jace, and vice versa, Jace was going to bring his parents over to introduce me to them. There were only two ways I could foresee this entire fiasco playing out. One, my parents would blow a gasket of epic proportions, then force me to end my marriage to Jace. Or two, they would be too livid at me to even consider any other option besides disowning me.

"Clary?" Jace's sleepy moan broke me out of my thoughts. He squinted at me through sleep-dazed golden eyes. "Why are you crying, babe?"

I raised my hand to my cheek and cringed when I felt the palpable wetness there. I didn't even know that I _was_ crying.

"It's nothing." I choked on my own lie, which Jace obviously saw through. It amazed me how well he could read me, as if we had grown up together our whole lives.

"Come here," he patted on his bare chest. "Lie down here, with me."

I sniffled and wiped my tear-stricken face, but obeyed. I laid my head down on Jace's chest, comforted by his scent, his warmth, his _everything_.

"I love you," he said after a while. I pressed my palm against his solid chest, where his heart was thumping. It was a strong beat, its rhythm addictive and soothing to my touch. His words— _I love you_ —were new to the both of us. We didn't enter this marriage on the grounds of love, but we both knew now, without a doubt, that we loved each other. That we couldn't see ourselves with another. That we were it for each other.

"I love you, too," I murmured. "I'm scared, Jace."

"I know, Clary. I am too, but it'll be okay. You'll see."

I sniffled again. "What if they make us go through a divorce?"

"I won't agree to it. They can't force me to. And they can't force you either."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"We _always_ have a choice, Clary," he said firmly. "Don't overthink it. Now," he stroked my hair lightly, "Go to sleep. We'll have time to worry tomorrow."

I wanted to fight him on it—the last thing I wanted to do, on a night that could possibly be the last we ever spent as a married couple, was to sleep—but Jace was determined. So despite my edginess, I let myself succumb to exhaustion, dreams of our first encounter filling my unconscious mind.

* * *

 **Six months ago:**

I had my gaze set on him way before he even noticed me, the boy—no, _man_ —with the golden hair and golden eyes. He was a stunning specimen, nothing at all like I've ever seen before, and though I was far from a flirt, my heart was begging for me to race into that very direction: I wanted to know him. I wanted him to notice _me_.

But my reticence held me back from doing what I wanted, and I settled back onto my stool, nursing my bottle of Coke morosely. It wouldn't have mattered anyway if I got to know him and _tried_ to get into a relationship with him. It wouldn't work out.

One, he was completely out of my league (I mean, come on, what golden hottie would want to have a ginger midget hanging on his arm?) And two, in six months' time, I would have to give all of that up. I was getting married, I was _engaged_ , end of story—or at least that was what my parents had told me over the phone earlier. My life of independence, as I knew it, was over.

The very thought of my arranged wedding almost set me off in tears. I didn't know who I was getting married to—I didn't know how he looked like or what his first name was. Heck, I didn't even know his _family's name_ or what they did for a living! My parents had point-blank refused to tell me who it was, afraid that I would look him up and try to convince him to back out of the arrangement if I somehow managed to make contact with him.

And they were right, of course. I wasn't the kind of girl who would just sit around and let my parents run my life—no, it was the main reason why I'd stayed away from home as much as I possibly could. As much as I loved my parents and appreciated everything they had done to raise me, I couldn't get past how unbelievably controlling they were. I swore…their favorite past time included micromanaging every single detail of my life.

After graduating from high school, I'd purposely chosen a college far, far away from home, and till this day, I never once regretted that decision. Those years where I spent pursuing a degree in Art—the only reason my parents approved of my field choice was because my mother was a successful artist herself—were the best I've ever had in my life. For the first time, I wasn't subjected to being under my parents' thumb or feel the burn of their scrutinizing gazes on me. There was no vise holding me back from doing what I wanted. I could allow myself to bask in the illusion that I was free. _Completely, utterly free._

There had been several ups-and-downs in those years, of course. I dated a guy—Sebastian Verlac—in my second year of college before it all came crashing down on me eight months later. He had cheated on me with the resident sorority slut, all because I had chosen to stick by my morals and refused to let him get 'physical' with me. In short, he was a complete moron who deserved all the scathing looks and less than flattering remarks when news went around that he had an STD the year after we broke up. What goes around, comes around, I guess.

The sound of a throat clearing had me jump out of my slightly angered thoughts. I looked up, a little too quickly, and did a double take at the sight that beheld me.

Standing before me was the ridiculously beautiful man who I'd been subconsciously leering at no more than ten minutes ago. He was looking at me with a cocky smirk on his face, one that screamed 'I'm hot and I know it!' And surprisingly, I didn't mind it all too much, mainly because his confidence was validated. Unable to help myself, I blushed. He was even more gorgeous up close, that the very sight of him made my throat go dry.

The sound of his deep, velvety laugh made me, once again, snap out of my wandering thoughts. I caught his lips moving, shaping to form words, but I heard none of them.

 _What is he saying again?_

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I found myself asking, surprisingly in a clear and fluid voice.

The man chuckled again. "I said—" I bit my nails into my palms in an effort to restrain myself from swooning at his elegant British accent. "—You seemed so lost in thought. What were you thinking about?"

I frowned a little at the question. He was asking me to share about my thoughts? What _normal_ stranger would do that? I was half-expecting a corny pick-up line, but I stood corrected. This was no ordinary man, so it was warranted that his responses would be far from the mundane.

"If I wanted to divulge my deepest secrets, I would have gone to a psychiatrist, not a bar," I told him off in a sassy tone.

The man only looked amused. "You're at a bar…but you're drinking a _Coke_?"

I felt my cheeks flush when he let out a laugh. "So what?" I countered a little defensively. "I just don't see the appeal in alcohol. Sure, the people who drink that stuff claim that it helps them to loosen up and forget all the bad things for a while… But the way I see it, the moment they get carried away, they'll only end up doing stupid things or get stuck with a killer hangover in the morning. Why would I put myself through all that?" _Plus, the bar isn't my usual hang-out place, either—I'm not even sure why I came here,_ I added a little guiltily in my head.

"Fair point," he nodded, still smirking slightly at me. "At least we've established that you're a level-headed one. In any case, a woman who doesn't let others push her around easily or pressurize her into changing her mindset is a woman worthy of respect in my book…"

His ironic words hit me like a freight train and I recoiled into my seat, my face twisting into an ugly scowl.

"Uh-oh," the golden man frowned. "Did I say something to offend you? You look like you've tasted a really sour lemon."

"Something like that," I muttered, shaking my head in self-annoyance. I really shouldn't have let his words get to me like that, I chided myself.

"Listen," I finally said, tucking my phone into my purse and making a move to get up from the bar stool. "I've to go," I smiled at him awkwardly. "It was really nice meeting you."

As I took two steps forward, a warm hand reached out and grabbed my arm, preventing me from making any further progress. It wasn't necessarily rough or anything, but the grip was firm and the touch sent shockwaves coursing through my body. I'd never felt anything like that before…

 _Don't be stupid. All these invisible sparks and electricity nonsense only happens in fairytales. You're living a nightmare, remember? Overbearing parents? Arranged marriage? Stop acting like a naïve little girl, Clarissa. You don't even look the part of a princess…_

I sighed heavily but refused to spare a backwards glance at the golden man, hoping he would get the hint that I wanted him to let go. He didn't.

"I don't want you to leave on my account," he said. "Look, I'm sorry if I said anything to offend you. I didn't mean to. I just…You seemed lonely and I wanted to get to know you."

Only then did I look back at him. The smirk he wore was gone and he looked downright drained, to be honest. Even then, he was still handsome.

"I don't think I'm your cup of tea. You're better off not knowing me." I moved my free hand to pry his fingers off of my arm. He finally took the hint and let go of me easily, a flash of hurt and rejection crossing his face. I felt a sharp pinch in my heart at his reaction; it felt _wrong_ knowing that I'd hurt him, no matter how little. "I'm sorry if no one's ever told you 'no' before—"

"I'm not expecting anything from you, if that's what you think," he cut in, his tone suddenly abrasive and his face unreadable. "I'm not the kind of man who forces himself onto girls—"

"I wasn't trying to imply that—"

"—I just want to get to know you." His expression changed to somewhat more desperate when he realized that I was about to tell him no—again _._ The monosyllabic, two-letter word was literally at the tip of my tongue, waiting to roll off, when he gave me a pleading, puppy-dog look that instantly drove me weak in the knees.

"Please?" His voice softened and I could have sworn his golden began to melt like a pot of warm honey. "Pretty please with the cherry on top?"

 _Bloody hell,_ I cursed. _How am I supposed to say 'no' to that?_

* * *

A few minutes later, we were walking side-by-side on the pavement, the neon lights and flashing billboard signs lighting up the streets at night. I had my hands tucked in the pockets of my coat, my high-heeled boots clacking rhythmically with each step I took.

"Clary," he said, testing my name out on his tongue.

I blushed, then internally swore. How was it possible that he was affecting me so much, just by saying my _nickname_?

 _Oh, get a grip, Clary! We've only known each other for five minutes. Crying. Out. Loud!_

"I like it. It's like the herb, _Clary Sage_."

"And your name's Jace," I remarked stupidly. _But wait!—Here comes the even stupider remark:_ "Cool name. It kind of reminds me of…lace?" _Crap, I'm turning into a bloody tomato again._

Not to my surprise, Jace burst out laughing, a deep, sexy kind of laugh that resonated from his belly. "That's a first," he finally said. "So am I supposed to infer that you think my name's sexy? I mean, lace is considered to be sexy in most contexts…"

I glared at him. "Haven't you ever heard that modesty is an attractive trait?"

"Only from ugly people," Jace confided. "The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me."

I scoffed. "Well, I'm not sure I want to surround myself with the likes of you anymore," I retorted, only half-meaning it. "I can only tolerate so much arrogance, and right now, you reek of it."

"You and I both know that you're lying, Clary," he said in a sing-song voice. "I'm a pretty good judge of other people's thoughts; some might even say that I'm telepathic. But…" He glanced over at me, smirking in that irresistible way of his. "For the sake of trying to be modest, I'll just label myself as… _perceptive_."

"Modest, my ass," I muttered underneath my breath.

Jace chuckled. "So tell me," he said, angling his head slightly so that he could see my face. He looked curious, like an inquisitive five-year-old on a lookout for answers. "Why'd you think I'd be better off not knowing you?"

I gulped, not sure if I wanted to answer him truthfully.

"Because I don't see anything about you to suggest that I should hightail it out of here with my head between my legs. You're a pretty cool person, as far as I can tell with my _perceptive eye_ …" He winked at me, completely aware that his stupid action set off a whole nest of butterflies in my stomach. "You're not a serial killer or a runaway leprechaun from _Snow White_ , are you?"

I rolled my eyes then. "A leprechaun from _Snow White_ … At least get your fairytale facts straight, oh wise and perceptive one. Those midgets from _Snow White_ are called 'dwarves', not leprechauns. And secondly, do you see me sporting an orange beard or resemble anything close to a man?"

"So defensive," he chuckled. "And to answer your question, no. You don't look like a man. Not in the very least. Though if you were, I'd be highly disturbed. I'm kind of attracted to you and it'd be a real disappointment if you revealed yourself to be a sham."

Blood rushed to my cheeks at his admission, even if I knew there was a fair chance that he was only teasing me.

"Oh I'm not lying. I _am_ attracted to you," he said as if reading my thoughts.

In a bold move I should have seen coming, he draped his arm over my shoulders and tucked me into his side; I found myself leaning into him a little bit, appreciating the warmth that seemed to emanate from him.

Just then, reality and my bloody conscience caught up with me, and I found myself pulling away from him, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

Jace's arm—which had only moments ago been around me—dropped to his side, and he looked at me warily, his expression lost and teensy-bit hurt. I didn't know why he'd feel the latter emotion though; we were strangers who knew next to nothing of each other other than our first names.

"Don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather be spending time with?" I said, a little icily for my usual taste.

Jace looked a bit startled and affronted by my sudden frosty disposition but relented with a calm answer. "No. I dated a bit in my high school years—none of which were headed anywhere serious, to be honest—but those days are far behind me now."

I sighed, feeling suddenly guilty for my rudeness. Jace certainly didn't deserve it. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I have no right to be so curt to you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," I cut him off, waving my hand around distractedly. "I've been a mess since the parents…well…let's just say, they caught me off-guard when they called me up to make a huge announcement about my future. I hopped the first flight out of New York, hoping to escape from all the madness…only to end up in a city known for its wild madness! I mean, who in their right minds would run away to Vegas? Clearly, I've lost it."

"Ah, so I was _partially_ right," Jace said, smiling softly at me. "You _are_ a runaway."

I giggled despite myself, then grimaced when everything finally caught up with me.

I was in Vegas. I ran away from home—and would have to return eventually—and I would have to marry someone else. A stranger, whose name or face I didn't know. The heavy realization, and the emotions that went along with it, hit me harder than a ton of bricks.

I thought I'd been a mess before when I first found out…but now, the gravity of it finally sunk in. I couldn't stop the tears or the ugly, gut-wrenching sob that tore out of me. The next thing I knew, I was a slobbering mess fumbling and wailing in Jace's arms.

"Shh, it's all right, Clary. I've got you," Jace cooed, stroking my hair. I buried my face deeper into his coat, which I realized belatedly, looked like one of those expensive designer coats my dad and brother Jonathan probably had a whole collection of. As Daddy dearest loved to say, _"Why settle for anything less when you can afford it?"_

"Is this a Burberry?" I asked, hating how raspy my voice sounded after crying. "It looks like a Burberry."

Jace smirked. "You don't strike me as the kind to be fond of designer brands," he said, "But yes, it is."

I fiddled with the buttons on his coat distractedly but stopped when he placed two fingers underneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "Will you tell me why you ran away? Surely it can't be that bad."

I sighed. There was no use skirting round the subject. I didn't see Jace leaving me alone anytime soon, especially after my embarrassing breakdown. Besides, I kind of needed someone to talk to anyway, and since I couldn't reach either of my best friends who decided to marry each other and then go backpacking in Europe _without me_ , I had to settle for Jace. "I'm getting married. Six months from today, to be exact."

Jace immediately let go of me as if I'd told him that I was an alien visiting from the planet Mars.

I gave myself a quick mental check-over. _Ten fingers. Two hands. Two feet. One head. Yup, definitely human._

"You're…getting…married?" His eyes widened into the size of saucers.

I sighed. "Told you it was a bad idea to get to know me," I said. "Although…you don't strike me as the kind to be deterred by a woman's relationship status," I attempted to joke, rather lamely, in my opinion. I could feel my face heating up from humiliation!

"The world works in such strange ways," Jace suddenly muttered, so quietly I had a feeling that he hadn't meant for me to hear it. But I did.

"Excuse me?" I asked, not understanding but curious to know what he'd meant.

He looked at me then, a couple strands of his luscious blond curls falling into his eyes. He shrugged. "I'm getting married, too," he said, his expression sour. For the first time, his smirk was finally replaced with a scowl. "And before you ask, I don't know who I'm marrying. My parents won't even tell me _where_ she's from—which leaves me to my imagination."

"And you imagine her to be?"

"A snotty, prissy, rich brat who has never lifted a finger in her life," he said, his lips turning down into an impossibly deeper scowl. "She probably throws parties all the time and does nothing but waste away her parents' money."

"That sounds kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"Maybe," he said. "But she happens to be the reason my life is about to be ruined. I don't know about you, but I'm content to let my imagination run wild. It helps me to lower my expectations for the future, save me from disappointment and all that crap."

"Where are you from?" I asked, hugging myself.

About midway through Jace's, admittedly, depressing 'speech', we'd started walking again. A diner came into view and Jace ushered me inside, noticing that I was shivering from the cold night air. From the inside, the diner was relatively cosy-looking and empty. I slipped into a random, vacant booth and Jace sat across from me, his face drawn with exhaustion.

"London," he finally said.

My heart sank at his answer. _London._ There was no chance in hell we'll ever bump into each other again then.

"I'm here on business," he added. "I've been here for about three days now."

I nodded. "When are you flying back?"

"Tomorrow night."

If possible, my heart sank even deeper. "Oh," I said lamely.

"What about you, Clary?" Jace leaned toward me from across the table, his body slouched slightly. "When do you plan on going home?"

I sighed. Now _that_ was a loaded question. "Honestly? If I had my way, _never_. I never want to go home. I don't want to marry…" I paused, realizing that I didn't know my fiancé's name. "— _that guy_. I don't want to marry him. I wish I could do something to change my parents' minds…or at the very least, do something for _me_ for once."

Jace was silent for a long time as if he were digesting my words. Then suddenly, his face lit up with an emotion I didn't recognize. "Do something for yourself?"

I shrugged. "Well…yeah. I've always lived for my parents. Never for me. I want to do something for myself before I tie myself down—unwillingly—to this man I even don't know." I let out a bitter laugh. "But that's just a pipe dream. I'm not brave enough—"

I was cut off by Jace suddenly grabbing my hands. The electric shockwaves were instantly back, burning me hottest where his hands were cupped around mine. The butterflies I never knew existed in my stomach were wide awake now and flapping wildly after years of lying dormant and waiting… Waiting for _Jace_ , I realized.

"What about taking a leap _with me_?" he asked, emphasizing on those last two words. I looked up from his hands to his face, my eyes widening in shock at the sheer intensity of his golden eyes. Irrationally, I felt a flash of jealousy and resentment towards the woman who was set to marry him. She was one lucky girl, that was for sure.

"W-what?" My envy-addled brain could barely choke out that one word. I tried to discreetly pry my hands out of Jace's—I could barely think with him touching me—but as if he knew what I was doing, he held onto me tighter. _Damn it._ I looked down at the Formica table top and cleared my throat, willing myself to reclaim a semblance of coherency. "What do you mean by that?" My cheeks heated when my gaze rose to meet his. "Are we talking about bungee jumping or sky-diving? I'm not a fan of heights…"

Jace laughed, a deep rumbling laughter that turned my intestines to mush. Oh God, what was this man doing to me? I never felt this way before about another man… _Chill out, Clary. What's gotten into you? Do you want to scare him away?_ I shook my head furiously without realizing it.

"Why are you shaking your head at me? You haven't even heard my proposition yet," Jace said with an arched eyebrow. Even _that_ turned me into a pot of quivering mess.

"What proposition?" My voice sounded shaky even to my own ears.

Jace bit his lip, suddenly abashed. " _Proposal_ , actually." _WHAT? Is he joking? Is he suggesting what I think he is?_ "Will you marry me, Clary?" _Holy crap! He is._

"Are you out of your goddamned mind?" I screeched, finally pulling my hands out of his grip and away from his reach. My heart was beating fast—the excited kind of fast—and inwardly, I was like a sugar-high little girl running, leaping and soaring across a flower-filled meadow. Jace asked me to marry him! _Me!_ I was on cloud nine!

But none of those emotions translated on my face. My face showed the exact opposite: shocked and even _terrified_. Jace probably thought that _I_ thought that he was crazy. It wouldn't be far off from the truth, actually. As irrationally happy and flattered as I was that he'd asked me something I never thought he would, I did think that he was crazy. We _were_ strangers. Even if I knew more about him that I did about my mysterious fiancé, it didn't change the fact that I didn't know him before tonight.

"Just hear me out," he said as if he were trying to talk down a wild animal.

"You're crazy. You're bloody insane. Did you bust yourself out of a psych ward or something? Oh God, I'm sitting with a psychopath."

Jace looked offended by my rambling. "Am not."

"For all I know, you're a serial killer that goes around preying on vulnerable, unsuspecting women…" I pointed my finger into his face. "That's it, isn't it? You lure them by turning on your magical charm and then you ask them to marry you, _trapping_ them, and then you kill them afterwards."

Jace's eyes were wide at my accusation, and I felt, strangely, smug.

"Why so shocked? Did I hit a nerve by calling you out on your crazy?" I cocked my head to the side, taunting him. I realized a little too late that this wasn't a good idea; if Jace really were a serial killer, then I'd basically signed my own death wish. Oh well.

"Wow," he finally breathed— _not the response I was expecting._ "You're crazy, Clary."

"Look who's talking! At least I'm not the one asking _you_ to marry _me_! Has it ever occurred to you that we literally only just met?"

"Touché," Jace said, but didn't look the least bit unapologetic or unsettled, for that matter. "But you know me more than your fiancé. That would make me the better choice for a husband, wouldn't it?"

"Questionable," I scoffed. "You could have been lying to me about who you are. Are you even British? How long have you been working on your accent?"

Jace laughed again. "God, I think I'm falling in love with you."

This time, I looked at him as if he had grown two heads. I was no longer flattered or happy, but wary and… _angry_. How could I have let this go on for so long? I should have ignored him from the start. I should have never given him the opportunity to make me feel something for him, only for him to do… _this_. Whatever the hell this was.

"If you're trying to play me, you better stop this right now," I told him in a low voice. There must have been something in my tone that warned him to back off, because Jace finally sobered up from his laughing. "I won't let you take me for a fool. I won't let any man disrespect me like that. We've had a fun chat, but I think it's time for me to leave. Good night and good luck with your life, Jace."

I stood up and left the diner without another glance back, just wanting to forget any of it ever happened. _Jace never happened. This night was a mistake. Running away to Vegas was a mistake. This was never supposed to happen._

"Clary, wait!"

I hastened my steps. He did the same. I picked up the pace and broke into a run. To my bafflement, Jace did the same thing. This was ridiculous. Why was he chasing me? Why was I _running_ away from him?

Because I was cursed with short legs, Jace easily overtook me with his long strides. I stomped my foot in despair when he blocked my path. I tried moving in one direction and then another, but he mirrored each and every one of my movements with precise clarity. I couldn't escape him. _Why won't he leave me alone?_

"Go away, Jace!" I shoved at his chest. He didn't even stumble. Dumb blond idiot and his superhuman strength. "I'll call the police—"

I didn't even get the chance to finish my sentence when Jace's mouth was on mine, kissing me with such electrically-charged passion I forgot why I was even angry with him in the first place. My hands came up, supposedly to push him away from me, but instead, I found myself tugging him closer to me as I…I kissed him _back_.

Alas, the moment didn't last very long. Jace's warm, soft mouth curved into the smallest of smiles before he pulled away, no doubt to look at my reaction. To _my_ credit, he looked equally breathless and affected by our kiss.

"Please don't call the police on me," he said.

"I don't know," I teased him. "I've more charges to place against you now. It was just 'stalking' before, but now you have 'assault' to add onto your list." Jace cringed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. That was…nice."

Jace's smirk returned. "It was, wasn't it?"

I rolled my eyes at his arrogance. "I suppose so," I grumbled before pushing myself away from him. "But I really have to go now, Jace. I'm tired and it's late—"

"I was serious, you know," he interrupted, and I had to resist the urge to slap him upside the head for cutting me off— _again_. Didn't he know how rude he was being? "I was serious about asking you to marry me."

I gave him my full attention then, my breath caught in my throat.

"The reason why I asked wasn't because I wanted to play you. I didn't lie when I said that I was getting married too, Clary. It really sucks. And then I met you and I thought," he scoffed, "I didn't know what I thought, to be honest. But what were the odds of the two of us—two unwillingly engaged people—meeting in Vegas? I guess I'm just still reeling from the fact that I finally found someone who could relate to my situation."

"That still doesn't explain your reasons for asking me to marry you."

"I was getting to that, Miss Impatient," he said. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to interrupt someone when they're talking?"

My mouth fell open. "Excuse me—"

"Now, as I was saying," Jace interjected. He grinned at me when I let out an annoyed huff. "You were saying about how you wanted to do something for _yourself_ for once…and I just thought, 'Yeah, I can relate to that. I feel the same way.' But the thing with this arranged marriage is…it's like walking into a trap you're already fully aware of exists. But if _we're_ to get married on our own terms…we would be doing something for _ourselves_. It can be something that finally belongs to us, not our parents."

I frowned. "Okay, I get that. But that doesn't take away the fact that we're still going to have to get married to the people our parents have chosen for us. What's going to happen then? We're going to walk down the path of divorce? It'll be messy, Jace. And if my parents were to ever find out I did something so scandalous at the age of 23…I'll be as good as dead. Besides, what makes you think I want to marry _you_?"

"That hurts, Clary. Right in my fragile heart," he placed a hand mockingly over his heart. "It's not as scandalous as you think it is. I mean, it would be if I'm like ten years older than you, but you're lucky. I'm only 24."

"Age is not even the matter here. You're digressing."

"Alright, fine," Jace relented. "I didn't assume you would want to marry me—I'm not that much of an ass, Clary. The reason I asked was because I just…I wanted to take a chance. I like you, Clary. And I wanted to see if you were willing to explore how far this could go."

"And you thought marrying would be the solution? I'm lost here, Jace."

"Marriage seemed to be the only thing we both have in common. Think of it as a chance to not only get to know each other better, but a chance to rebel against our parents. Taking things into our own hands…"

"Revenge?"

"And it doesn't have to be a secret," he asserted. "If, in the next few months we discover that we feel something for each other—something close to _love_ —then we'll introduce each other to our parents and let them know that we can't go through with our weddings. That we choose each other instead."

"That's crazy," I repeated.

"Do you at least like me, Clary? If we were two people just meeting—if we didn't have anyone that we're promised to—do you think I'd have a chance with you?"

It didn't take long for me to come up with an answer. "Yes."

"Yes to what?"

"Yes to both. I like you. And I would give you a chance." Jace took a step closer to me, and I took one step backward. "But I _am_ promised to another man. I can't."

Jace nodded, but looked dejected. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and sighed. "I understand your reasons." His eyes met mine, and I watched as his pupils searched me, _held me_ , as if he were committing my image to his memory.

"Well," he said after a while, "I guess this is goodbye then. I hope that when you finally do meet your future husband, that he'll be a good man who treats you right. I hope you'll find happiness in your marriage, Clary." He placed a hand on my shoulder—a friendly touch that contrasted deeply with the passionate kiss we'd shared minutes ago—then he turned to leave.

I watched him walk down the street, the back of his figure, his golden-blond hair, illuminated by the many streetlights and flashing neon signs. I wondered if I had done the right thing by turning him down…by letting him go.

Yes, Jace's idea of getting married in Vegas—in light of our own impending arranged marriages—was a crazy idea. We would have to get divorced eventually and return to our realities, so what was the point of us marrying each other?

Even if he was right—that it would give us both the chance to spite our families—the fact of the matter was, we couldn't let _them_ know. I wasn't going to be crazy enough to ring up my parents and tell them, _"Hey, you know that bomb you dropped on me earlier about me having to marry this guy? Yeah, that can't work. I've recently updated my relationship status to 'married' after I made the spontaneous decision to fly off to Vegas. So could you kindly call the other guy and tell him I won't be meeting him…wherever it is you've planned for me to marry him? Thanks, love you, bye."_ I would be dead within the hour.

But there was something about what Jace had said that stuck to me. Something about us finally having something belong to only _us_. Why should I let my parents choose the man who would claim _my_ body, mind, soul and heart—things that I have always valued—without a fight? Why couldn't I be the one to decide my future for myself?

Jace and I… We didn't have to make it work. But we _could_. I liked Jace, and he liked me. We had only known each other for a span of, _what_ , 20 minutes? But already, I felt the safest I've ever been with another man who wasn't family. And I wasn't just saying this because I was physically attracted to him… Jace seemed like a genuinely good guy. How could I let him go?

"JACE!" I was running after him now. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten very far; it was as if he were nursing a broken heart from how slowly he walked. Or maybe he thought that I would change my mind. If that were the case, then he was an absolutely cocky idiot who deserved a slap on the head—but that could wait. "Jace, wait up!"

He turned around and smiled at me; he looked sheepish, but genuinely hopeful to see me. "Back again so soon?"

"I thought about what you said. You're right," I told him breathlessly. "Jace," I inhaled a deep breath, "Will you marry me?"

* * *

 **Present day:**

'Worried' didn't even begin to justify a fraction of what I was feeling. I was restless, agitated, nervous, and on edge. I jumped at every little noise, like a girl recovering from a severe bout of paranoia and PTSD combined.

How was I supposed to sit through this meeting with my parents? How was I going to walk out of the meeting unscathed? Surely if my parents weren't the ones to skin me alive after finding out what I'd done, I would die of a heart attack triggered by my own nerves instead.

Without realizing it, I let out a loud, tremulous sigh—which actually sounded a lot more like a gasp coming from an asthmatic sixty-year old woman…or any other person on the brink of death, really.

"Clary," Jace's voice came from beside me. He was driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently gripping my bouncing knee. " _Breathe._ You're going to give yourself an aneurysm from all this worrying. I'm not ready to become a widower yet."

I smiled despite myself. "You could marry again though. To that girl who's supposed to be your fianceé…"

Jace scowled. "Don't joke about that. I don't want to marry another girl."

I laced my fingers through Jace's. "I don't want to marry another man either. Even if our wedding is supposed to be two days from now."

"Good."

We drove in silence again, save for the sound of the radio playing in the background. _Thinking Out Loud_ by Ed Sheeran was streaming through the car speakers, and I smiled when I heard Jace singing along—singing to _me_. The tension in my shoulders dissipated, and before long, I was singing with Jace, the two of us grinning like idiots at each other.

 _"I'm thinking out loud…that maybe we found love right where we are… Oh maybe we found love right where we are… And we found love right where we are…"_

Just as the song came to a stop, so did our car.

I glanced at the restaurant where we would be meeting our parents, and squeezed Jace's hand. He squeezed mine right back.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured me.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and reluctantly let Jace's hand go. I then leaned over the space in between our car seats and kissed him. His large palm cupped the side of my face as he kissed me back, our lips caressing slowly as we savored each other.

"I love you, Jace," I whispered when I pulled away. His eyes carefully watched me, as if waiting for me to break down—I didn't. Instead, I opened the car door and stepped out with a silent grace and confidence I didn't knew I had, willing myself to not look back.

The moment I walked into the restaurant, everything around me functioned on autopilot. I vaguely recalled telling the staff that I was there for a reservation under Morgenstern, and then… _nothing_. Even when I was walking towards our assigned table, I was still blank, just barely able to process anything. My parents came into view far too soon for my liking, and I struggled against the urge to backpedal and hightail it out of there.

I gave my Mom and Dad a weak smile when they stood up to greet me, Mom with a hug and Dad with a kiss on the cheek.

"Clarissa, we've missed you," Dad said. "You've been away from home far too long. What were you doing in London these past six months?"

"Why haven't you called, or answered our calls? We've been worried," Mom interjected.

I shrugged, trying not to feel affected by the disapproval I heard in their tone. "I wanted to get away for awhile. Besides, you didn't have to worry about me. I wasn't there to run away. I just wanted space. I texted you, didn't I?"

"You're lucky I didn't fly into London to drag you home," Dad scolded.

I frowned. "Why didn't you then?"

"Excuse me?"

"You could've come after me in London and took me home," I said, "But you didn't. So why didn't you?"

Mom placed her hand on top of Dad's, as if to calm him down. "Your father wanted to, but I thought it was only fair to give you some time. I knew you weren't going to take the news of your arranged marriage well. I'd anticipated it."

"But?" I hedged her.

"There is no 'but'," Dad grumbled. "We've given you all the freedom you could possibly have, Clarissa, but now is the time to grow up. You were lucky that your mother and I have exercised any of this patience at all—that we didn't force you to take part in your wedding planning. But now everything's arranged—"

"You should see the dress I had tailor-made for you, Clary. It's beautiful," Mom gushed. "Oh, and the flowers and decorations for the reception… You'll love it—"

"I don't want to get married," I blurted out.

Mom and Dad froze, and then almost simultaneously, they both turned red with rage.

"I beg your pardon?" Dad said in a dangerously calm voice. "Don't want to get married?"

"I'm married," I whispered, looking down at my lap. I twisted the white gold circlet on my finger; Jace had bought me the ring about a month ago, a symbol of his love and commitment towards our union. "I've been married for the past six months and I love my husband. I don't want to leave him."

I finally looked up. Mom had paled at my confession, but Dad…Dad looked almost purple now, that I feared that he would reach across the table and strike me.

"You—"

"Valentine, Jocelyn! What a surprise to see you both here!" A stranger's voice interrupted, just when I was certain that my father was about to start yelling profanities at me. Dad composed himself rather quickly as he stood up to greet the uninvited guest—or should I say… _guests_?

I stared at Jace, stunned as he was, when my parents began to exchange greetings and hugs with a blond man and woman, whose faces I had only seen in the photographs framed in my husband's apartment. His parents—and my _in-laws_ , I realized.

I quickly stood up and rushed to Jace's side, carelessly slipping my hand into his. "What's going on here? How do your parents know mine?" he whispered frantically into my ear.

"I don't know," I whispered back. "Maybe they've done business deals with each other before. Did you tell your parents about us?"

"Not yet," Jace answered, looking worried. "I was about to tell them and then they saw your parents and came bounding towards them. Did _you_ tell your parents about us?"

"I did. I just told them that I'm married and then you came—"

The sound of a throat clearing—my Dad's—made me halt mid-sentence.

Jace and I looked away from each other and at the four pairs of eyes currently focused on us. _Uh-oh._ I hadn't prepared for this at all. A confrontation with both sets of parents within the same space? D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R. The original plan was to ease our parents into the news— _separately_ —that we were married, and then once they were calm and more or less accepting of the idea, we would introduce them to each other. Not like this!

Jace's mom was the first to break the unnerving silence. "What's going on here?" she asked, and I couldn't help but notice that it was the same question her own son had asked me a minute ago.

" _Jonathan Christopher_ ," his dad intoned, "Why are you holding Clarissa's hand?"

That's it. We were done for. Why weren't we running yet?

As if they had it all rehearsed, our parents zoomed in on our tightly clasped hands. Out of self-consciousness, I tried to yank my hand away but Jace held firm.

"We're married," he casually said as if he were introducing his name. A collective gasp left our mothers while our fathers' expressions remained unreadable.

"We married six months ago, and no, we're not going to get a divorce just because you've planned for us to get married to someone else. I love Clary," Jace looked over at me, "And she loves me. Nothing any of you say or do can tear us apart."

The silence. Oh, how I _hated_ the silence. It was so deafening that you could hear a pin drop. I was fairly certain that we had everyone's attention—and I do mean _everyone_. Our parents, the other diners, the servers. Going to a high-profiled restaurant was a mistake. I knew we should have invited them over to my old apartment in Brooklyn instead.

"Mom," Jace suddenly sounded like a small child as he looked to his mother for help. She looked the least capable of killing us so I didn't blame him. "Say something."

Celine exchanged a look with my mother, and in a matter of seconds, they were jumping up and down while hugging each other and squealing. My jaw dropped at the sight of our mothers behaving like a bunch of teenage girls—Jace's too. Our fathers looked at each other, shrugged, then shook hands.

Lost. I was so bloody lost.

"Sweetheart, are you seeing the same thing I'm seeing or is it just me?" Jace whispered.

"They've gone nuts," I hissed. "This is a ploy to make us believe that we're safe. We should make a run for it now. Before they attack us with the silverware."

Jace snorted. "There you go again, Miss Paranoid."

"I don't trust them, Jace—" I broke off, squealing, when I was yanked into a suffocating embrace in between my mother and mother-in-law.

"Welcome to the family, dear!" Celine crooned.

"Why didn't you tell us you got married sooner? I don't care what you say, you're still showing up to your wedding in two days to get married— _properly_ this time," Mom said.

"Jace, save me!" I screamed. Then turning back to my mother, I added in a slightly affronted tone, "And our wedding was _legitimate_ and _proper,_ I assure you."

Dad cleared his throat again. "If you ladies would take a seat…we have some very important things to discuss." He looked at Jace, who was squirming underneath my father's stern, penetrative gaze. I could tell that the other two women—my mom and Celine, I meant—were reluctant to let me go, but they did so anyway.

We all settled back into our seats, me huddling as close as possible to Jace as our parents stared at us, our moms looking frighteningly cheerful as if they had each downed a bottle of happy pills.

"First question: how did you know that you were engaged to be married?" Stephen asked.

I decided to take the lead this time. "We didn't. We met by chance, and…took a chance, I guess."

"Six months ago? Right after you both learned the news that you were to be married?" Dad was back to being his scary calm self.

"Yes, sir," Jace answered after seeing me flinch.

"Hmm," Dad narrowed his eyes. "And _where_ did you get married?"

Jace and I took a deep breath and answered in unison. "Vegas."

* * *

 ** _A/N: I can't stress enough that one should not take this story seriously since I only wrote it for my own fun and amusement._** ** _Unless you're Clary and Jace (who are endgame) and you exist in a purely fictional world, then you should never say 'yes' to marrying a complete stranger you've only just met. That's dangerous, and well, crazy. And it's always best to get your parents' or guardians' blessings before getting married, methinks._**

 ** _Let me know your thoughts on this one-shot. I'd love to hear them!_**

 ** _p.s. Be sure to check out my multi-chapter fic Redemption and other one-shots!_**

 ** _Until then, peace xoxo_**


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